Chapter Twelve (Fortune & Dispassion)

His Dad had three rules about fighting. First, is it necessary? If there are other solutions to the problem, whatever that may be, and it is reasonable, then you shouldn't start a fight, and generally, with sensible people, there is a solution. To hear him say it, if you can't think of one, you aren't trying hard enough.

The Paladin was clearly no longer sensible, and negotiating with the lives of thousands of people for our own was never on the table. Not that he gave us that option, to begin with. He barely offered it to the knights, not that it would work. Father said that the Outriders were obstinate, and occasionally, it was good that they were. He mostly cursed their name, though.

The second was, is there a reason? Do you know? Does anyone? If you can't remember or come up with the basis to which you fight, is it worth potentially dying over it? And every fight has the potential for death or at least possibly permanent or painful injuries, from a child's brawl over a toy to drunken squabbles to wars. The risk isn't equal among them or even between the members of them. There is always someone more robust or experienced than you, but the risk is always there.

Daniel was not going to die, but stopping a madman from mass murder was compelling reason enough. Again, like there was any other option. Besides, the Paladin implicitly threatened to kill his sister, and he started fights over less.

The third and final rule was that honor is stupid. When a fight begins, end it as quickly as possible.

That was going to be a problem.

The Paladin was more skilled than him, better armed than him, better reach, better protected, and likely stronger than him. The only thing Daniel had on him was speed, but that wasn’t going to do much without the ability to harm him.

The only thing Daniel could do was distract him long enough for Tellock to hit her opponent. However, that runs into a different problem. Daniel would likely die in the attempt.

Any distraction he could make and force the paladin to acknowledge would involve him being within striking range of the paladin. And while the shield he borrowed from the knights was sturdy and would possibly hold up to an attack by the man, everything behind the shield, namely Daniel, would not. And then the shield would be unusable from the no doubt large metal dent and shattered wood the blow would punch into it.

But Daniel didn’t really have any other option. He left the spear he picked up from the dead guard back at the Outrider’s garrison to cut down on weight. There were no stones that he could see at a glance around, and even if there were, he couldn’t throw it hard enough to harm the man through his armor. The warhammer he brought could, but that runs into the close enough to be hit issue.

With all that flowing in his mind, Daniel ran in a wide arc around the Paladin, ditching his only weapon and throwing the shield at the defending paladin, trying to flank behind him.

Despite spending his entire life around weapons, neither his parents taught him how to use one beyond sharp-end toward the enemy. And while he was sure the village's instructors were excellent and valuable teachers, he had barely three days' worth of training before all this.

What he did have were four younger siblings and a very physically affectionate mom translated to him getting very good at wrestling.

Ducking low, Daniel waited a brief moment, then threw his shield at the Paladin, bursting toward him in a dead sprint. The Paladin, midway through parrying an overhead slash from Tellock, without missing a beat, batted away the shield with the butt end of his weapon. The shield, by Lo’on favor, flipped in just a way to cover Daniel’s approach.

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Paladin could still hear him, but Tellock and the shield my focusing on Daniel, a risky prospect.

Daniel slammed into the fold of his armor shoulder first. In the same movement, he wrapped his arms around the paladin's legs. Chopping at the back of their knees with his hands and lifting toward himself at the same time. Daniel and the Paladin fell bodily over. Twisting to catch himself, the Paladin reversed the takedown, crushing Daniel's right arm under their weight with a knee and digging the other knee painfully into Daniel's gut.

Holding back a scream, Daniel bucked, arching his back as far and hard as he could. But the man maintained the pin. Halbard tossed to the side. He slammed a hand down on Daniel’s neck, the other hand reaching for his dagger.

But Daniel was quicker, snatching the dagger from the Paladin’s weast and diving down into the back of his leg. There was armor even there.

Small, thin, delicately forged plates. The such expense would be useless against Beasts. If a Beast hits you in the knee, the elbow, or the armpit, one-sixteenth of an inch worth of metal won’t stop it. Then again, Paladin isn’t trained to fight Beast.

The dagger pierced the armor but was blunted, crashed through the chainmail underneath but was slowed, and finally broke the skin. But it was not enough. Injured but still capable, the Paladin raised his arm in preparation to crash an elbow through Daniel’s face. Then rolled out of the way of the point of Tellock’s swordstaff.

Daniel took wild gulps of air as he slowly got back to his feet. He was exhausted. His neck, right arm, and lower back ached in pain, and his neck was bleeding from the many minor lacerations left by the paladin's gauntlet.

He gritted his teeth and straightened his posture, everything hurting in response, but he pushed through. He had to. Nobody can protect what he loves but him.

Meanwhile, Tellock harried her opponent. The Paladin was finally on the back foot, forced to dodge and retreat under her seemingly endless barrage of swift thrusts and slashes.

Weaponless, he suddenly ceased his retreat, committing to charge in an attempt to get behind the blade of the swordstaff and grab hold of the weapon.

Tellock didn't expect him to halt so suddenly, already mid-thrust at the breaths of his helmet. Kicking up dirt, he ducked under the attack and stuck a hand out, grabbing hold of the haft of the swordstaff.

Using his greater leverage and strength, he yanked the weapon from her hands and simultaneously kicked in the chest, knocking Tellock off her feet.

Tellock rolled back to her feet, eyes never leaving her opponent, and drew her dagger. Retreating a few steps.

Both were panting their breath coming out in visible puffs of air through their helmets. They were separated by only a couple dozen feet. Either of them could cross that distance in a moment. But they both knew what the outcome of that would be.

Tellock stood ready to fight but dispassionately noted she had already lost. The traitor had been able to reverse her advantage by skill and good fortune. He outclasses her in fighting a like opponent and she was never that lucky. This is it she thought but didn't particularly mind.

She tried her best, it wasn't enough.

Glancing over her shoulder at the one person to ever call her friend she felt a faint pang of emotion.

Daniel had limped his way to the fallen halberd and shakenly held it in one hand. The weight caused him to drag the head across the ground as he slowly stumbled his way toward her. He was too far to help.

The paladin would reach her before she could get to Daniel. And they had drifted too far for the other knights to assist, if they were capable of assisting after killing Grimrider.

Facing back toward the traitor paladin, nothing had changed. He hefted his stolen weapon, testing its weight as he caught his breath. Watching them carefully. He will not make the same mistakes.

Tellock tightens her grip on the dagger, raising it in a high guard. She will lose, but there was no need to make it easy.

She just wished Daniel had run.

The Paladin advanced.